Be My Zing
by Missyriver
Summary: Oliver Queen thought the soulgaze was a myth. He had heard the stories, seen the movies. He knew that, according to the stories, he would make eye contact with someone and he would know them instantly. He would see flashes of their life, from their past and present. And if that wasn't enough, he would see what their life could be, together. It's commonly called the Zing: EXPLICIT


**_EARTH 35, June 2, 2017_**

Oliver Queen thought the soulgaze was a myth. He had heard the stories, seen the movies. He knew that, according to the stories, he would make eye contact with someone and he would know them instantly. He would see flashes of their life, from their past and present. And if that wasn't enough, he would see what their life could be, together. It's commonly called the _Zing_ , that first moment of connection with your soulmate. The rush. The feeling of excitement, the tingles, that come with learning about the past, present, and your future with your soulmate. And it was complete bullshit.

His best friend Tommy tries to convince him it's true, claims it happened to him with his, now wife Laurel back in high school. Oliver had been there at the time, and he tells Tommy he just looked constipated. Thea, Oliver's sister, goes out every weekend, trying to making eye contact to find her soulmate, trying to find her _Zing_ , and every night she would come home crying because she failed again. He reassures her that you don't need a soulmate to be happy, and points to their parents as an example. She rolls her eyes and stomps away saying he is an idiot. His parents' marriage had been arranged, a business deal that left no room for things like love and soulmates. It was a partnership that resulted in a billion dollar business, Queen Consolidated.

Being a Queen meant that women were constantly getting in his face, asking if he _zinged_ yet. He would laugh, tell them that it might not be in the cards for him, giving them his best Ollie Queen smolder and letting them take him home. But five years ago everything changed for him. He'd just been kicked out of his fourth college, and was spending more time at the clubs then at home. One night, wasted on booze and drugs, he got behind the wheel of his car. He lost control, sending the car down a ravine. It took them two days to find him and 6 months of rehab before he was able to walk with the use of a cane. He had shattered his right leg, broken his right clavicle, and punctured a lung. Not to mention the roadmap of scars and bad decisions that now littered his body. The jagged scar that almost took his eye is a constant reminder of his failure to society. He spent years, rebuilding his strength, in both mind and body, until he no longer needed the cane and only had a minor limp. He now focuses his attention and money on helping people that are suffering, but can't afford the same care he had.

Oliver stays away from the social scene, preferring to live under his hood. His name and picture no longer graces the gossip magazines and women don't try to make eye contact anymore. His family tries to understand that he has changed, that he will never be the wild Ollie they knew. He spent a year in and out of physical therapy, and in that time Oliver became friends with his, _torturer_ , or therapist as he preferred to be called, John Diggle. With Dig's encouragement he went back to school, and is studying to become a physical therapist. He still has four more years, but it is worthwhile. He is glad he doesn't believe in soulmates, because no one deserves to be saddled to a lame horse.

John Diggle is getting married today to his " _soulmate"_ , Lyla. And Oliver is the best man. John and Lyla met years ago, married right away but a tragic accident took their young daughter away. The loss was too much for them, so they separated. Years later by chance they met again, at a conference. The _Zing_ was back stronger than ever and they started to date again. Oliver asked John if he had seen what would happen when they first met. Dig told him that he only saw the possibilities of their lives, that the future is still son John, Jr. was born eight months ago and today, with their son between them, and a picture of baby Sara beside Lyla they say their vows again. Oliver might not be a believer but he knew when two people belonged together. There wasn't a dry eye in the room.

Oliver hates crowds now, and it is even worse since he is in a tux and on display. People try not to stare, but he still sees the pity on people's faces when they see him. John and Lyla had ordered him not to hood up until after the pictures; he hates being photographed but he could never say no to them. The reception is in full swing, the room crowded and dimly lit and the music blaring.

Oliver hangs back against the wall, his scarred face in shadow, and he keeps his eyes down cast. He a flash of red catches his eye and looks up. He sees a petite blonde woman in a knee-length tight red dress. His eyes skim up her body, black stilettos, smooth firm calves, tight round ass, a trim waist. The dress is two shades of red, thick red straps lay over cream colored shoulders. Her sunshine blonde hair is down, curled at the ends. He can just see her profile, and a long,, dangling earring. The same smooth skin of her shoulders decorates her cheek, but with a touch of red. Her nose is slim, and straight, resting above a pair of brightly coloured smiling lips.

In another life Oliver would have gone over and talked to her, asked her to dance. It wouldn't have mattered to him that she stood laughing and talking to the tall brown haired man that was obviously her date. Oliver still would have charmed her, taken her home, stripped her out of that red dress and kissed every exposed inch of skin. He would make sure she enjoyed their time together and then he would promise to call with no intention of keeping it. But that wasn't who he was anymore, after the accident he became something else, someone else.

Oliver watches her, she is animated talking with her hands, her feet shift, ankles crossing and uncrossing. She is poetry in motion, it's hard to look away, and he hasn't even seen her whole face. Oliver stands up straighter, he's about to turn away when she suddenly turns and stares in his direction. He feels the heat of her blue eyes trail along his hard trained body. She is even more beautiful facing him, she is mid laugh, a bright smile that radiates and sends warmth through his chest. He waits for her to see his face, to see the damage. He tenses, preparing for the look of pity when their eyes meet.

The music goes silent, people around him stop moving, confetti and balloons stop in mid air. A champagne bottle frozen in mid bubble, cork stops in free fall. But Oliver sees nothing but blue eyes, golden hair and red lips. He feels like he is moving forward, running down a steep hill toward the warm sun, but his feet haven't moved. He feels an electric jolt in his chest that spreads through his body, the hair on his arms stands up. A soft, feminine voice whispers in his ear, Felicity.

He sees a tiny brown-haired girl with bright blue eyes behind square glass, she is no more than six or seven, she sits beside her father. They laugh and talk, surrounded by computer parts, her father watches with pride as she mostly builds the computer by herself. Her mother watches from the kitchen, confused and amazed.

Same sweet girl, a few years older watches from her room as her parents fight, her mother is crying and her father looks disappointed. The man looks at the the girl, turns and walks out the door. Oliver can feel the girl's overwhelming sadness, and confusion. Her parents were forever, they were soulmates, they shouldn't be so sad or angry. 'The stories were wrong, there is no such thing as true love or soulmates,' the girl thinks. She blocks out the cries from her mother's room, she locks away her heart and vows to never make eye contact with anyone.

She's a skinny mousy blond teenager with big glasses, no more than 14 maybe 15. She looks like she might fall down carrying so many books, as she walks through the high school halls. The boys cover their eyes, when she comes closer, but she never lifts her head. The students bump her, knock down her books and call her names. Oliver is angry and wishes he could have been there to help her. To show them how amazing she is, smarter than every person in the building, even the teachers are intimidated.

She graduates high school in the winter at the age of sixteen, with a full ride to MIT, the principal hands her the diploma without ceremony and only her mother crying behind her. Her smile is bright, but her eyes are downcast.

College isn't easy for a genius seventeen year old girl, but she flourishes in the structured learning environment. She embraces her loner attitude and dyes her hair black, starts to wear all black and dares anyone to try and look her in the eyes. Oliver is awed by her transformation, and her devil-may-care attitude.

He sees her arms wrapped around a young brown haired boy. Oliver is sick with jealousy, he wants to rip the boy apart for daring to touch her. She doesn't care that they didn't _Zing,_ and the boy says she is all he would ever need. They work together, and create new programs. She is happy, she feels like she finally belongs and that she's with her true partner. Oliver can feel his chest rip apart, as she lays on the bed wracked with tears. The boy tries to comfort her but she tosses off his arms. The boy had found his soulmate months earlier and had been using the girl to help him pass his classes, his soulmate had told him that he had to confess. Oliver feels his fists clench, he wants to break him the way he tried to break her.

She stands in the sunlight, blonde hair pulled back in a high ponytail. She's excited, her feelings seep into Oliver and he smiles. It's her first day at KORD Industries, working in their applied sciences and IT department. She makes friends, and starts to blossom. She rarely dates, more interested in her technology. Oliver sees her meet the taller man he'd seen her with at the wedding, learns his sad story of losing his soulmate in an accident. She is content, maybe even one day she'll be happy.

Oliver's heart speeds up, he feels her warmth as if she is pressed against him, the scent of apples surrounds him. He feels a small, warm hand take his. He feels invincible with her beside him. He had never been so nervous asking out a woman, he stutters and she encourages him with a smile and a touch of her hand.

She stuns him when he walks into a restaurant, and she turns toward him. A vision in red, her hair cascades down one shoulder in perfect curls. He holds her hand at the table and Oliver can feel her under his fingers, his hand tingles where her thumb brushes his knuckles. He knows her laughter, the sound of her highs heels on the floor. She makes him laugh, even when he doesn't understand the joke. He feels lighter, a sense of happiness that he never dreamed of.

They stand in the middle of a bridge, it's their first fight. She walks away and he chases after her, he grabs her wrist, pulls her into him. He kisses her so completely that she dips back, her leg anchors to his, her hands in his hair. The kiss consumes them with burning passion, their tongues dual for dominance. She is everywhere, she is everything, and she is his.

Together they run through the halls of a hotel, she reaches the room first. She pushes him up against the door, she rubs her tight little body against him. Leaving searing wet kisses along his neck. He fumbles with the key, the door flies open, and they fall to the ground. They laugh, Oliver kicks the door shut. She is sprawled across his chest, her hair covering her face, their eyes meet. Suddenly the laughter stops, she's standing, pulling down the zipper of her green floral dress. The dress drop to the ground, he sees lace and satin.

She stands above him still in her high heels, long legs spread. His finger encircles her bare ankle he drags the tips of his fingers up her leg. She looks down at him and watches his slow moving fingers. She shivers and goosebumps spread along her skin. Oliver sits up keeping eye contact, he is on his knees in front of her, he pulls down her panties until she step out of them. He bends over uses the tip of his tongue to recreate his fingers sliding up her leg. His journey is slow, he pauses to swirl his tongue to the back of her knee, she moans and shivers. Oliver sucks, licks, and gently bites her inner thigh. He pushes himself back until he is seated, he grabs her ankle and encourages her to widen her stance, straddling his legs but remain standing. He uses the flat of his tongue to taste and lick her slit, his hands wrap under her thighs and cup her ass, keeping her in place. Her legs shake, her fingers tug and pull at his hair. The smell of her arousal is more intoxicating than any alcohol or drug.

The room changes, he presses her against the wall facing away from him, his arm is around her shoulders, his other arm is between her thighs. Fingers flicking and circling her swollen clit and spreading her juices around. She holds onto his arm with both hands. She is naked and her legs are spread wide, her back arches her perfect ass rubs against his thighs. She begs for him to fuck her. His cock is rock hard, rubbing against her drenched pussy, she reaches a hand between them and guides him into her hot, wet center. Oliver feels her walls fluttered around him. She pushes back into him, whimpers and begs for him to go faster. His hand moves to her hips and his fingers dig into flesh. He pounds into her, she meets him thrust for thrust. He wraps his arm around her waist, hand sliding up her abdomen, cupping her perfect breast, his fingers pinch and pull on her sensitive nipples. Her shallow breaths and moan let him know she's close, he lets go of her breast and fingers her clit. She cries out his name, he rides out waves of her orgasm before chasing his own release.

The flashes of life speed up.

He feels the spray of a hot shower on his back, and her pink lips around his cock. They are in a bed, she moves above him like sensual siren, her head thrown back, her pleasure vocal. She quizzes him on his studies, each right answer she removes a piece of clothing, he takes her on the table and passes the class with top marks.

He proposes to her the night of his graduation party, in front of their friends and family. They are married in the place they met, the ceremony small, Oliver's chest is tight and his eyes burn. He sees her laying in a hospital bed, hair in a messy ponytail, cheeks flush and no makeup. She is the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. She is looking down at the tiny baby wrapped in a purple and pink blanket against her chest and she is crying. She looks at him and holds her hand out, inviting him into her perfect world, he doesn't let go.

A sudden impact from his left severs the connection, Oliver is shaken, his bad leg almost buckles from the weight of what happened. He can still feel the connection buzzing under his skin. He feels her shock, fear, and sadness. She had never wanted to find her mate, she wanted to write her own destiny. Oliver understood why she didn't believe in love, she had been abandoned and left behind too many times. And here she is stuck with a scarred and broken man. How could someone so beautiful ever love someone like him? She was too good for him, too pure, too everything.

He could feel his heartbeat speed up, his chest tighten and his palms begin to sweat. He doesn't know if it's her panic or his. He looks around frantically, the dance floor is full, the music so loud his ears are ringing. He pushes himself forward moving toward the last place he saw her. His leg cramps up and he is forced to hop, skip through the crowd. He stumbles into John, he catches Oliver before he call fall. Oliver can see his lips moving, but he can't make out the words over the roaring in his head to **find her**. The scent of apples is stronger here.

"Where did she go? Where is she?" Oliver demands, shaking John.

Oliver scans the crowd again, her date is by a nearby table watching him. He pushes John's concerned grip off of him and shoves him back out of his way. John's eyes are wide in shock and Lyla watches Oliver with annoyance, then her eyebrows shoot up her brow in alarm and understanding. Oliver feels like he is walking on quicksand, the faster he moves to deeper he sinks. Oliver steps up to her date, he is taller them him, square jaw, the all-American boy type. Every girl's dream.

"Where is she? Where is Fel-licity?" saying her name out loud for the first time is jarring. It feels sacred and precious.

"You know Felicity? How do you know Felicity?"

Oliver cringes at her name on his lips, he feels a possessiveness the likes he has never known. Oliver doesn't realize his hands are fisted in the other man's suit coat until John grabs his hands, to loosen them.

"Oliver, man, what the hell? Are you okay?" John pleads.

Oliver looks over around. He can't breathe, he feels numbness start in his hands and move up his arms. His heart beats so fast he's worried it will beat out his chest. What if she saw something she didn't like? She might have seen the accident, felt his fear, and pain. He broke her and he has never even touched her.

"Please John. I need to find her" A single tear slides down his cheek.

Oliver doesn't know what John sees on his face, but something dawns on him and he lets go.

"Did you…? HOLY SHIT, here? She's here? Lyla you're right, it happened," John turns to the other man. "Ray, where'd your date go?"

Ray catches on quickly, he points to a hallway. "She froze and then almost fell over. I thought she was sick and then she ran off."

Oliver pushes his way past his friend, he uses the wall for support and runs down the apple scented hallway. There are no side doors just a double exit at the end of the hall. Oliver pushes through the door to an empty alleyway. A streetlamp illuminates a small spotlight of yellow. As suddenly as he felt her, along his skin, inside his mind, she is suddenly gone. He is alone again, left in the cold without the warmth of her sunlight. Oliver drops to his knees, his head falls to his chest. The smell of apples intensifies, will he ever be able to look at an apple again without getting sad or turned on?

Oliver feels the light touch of fingers on his shoulder, a hand drag over his broad back to the other shoulder. He doesn't dare open his eyes, he worries that it's all in his head. He gasps as a small hand cups his scarred cheek, he leans into the palm, warmth spreads down his face and into his pounding heart. The panic is gone and only hope blooms.

"Oliver," she sighs his name.

The breath he'd been holding releases, "Felicity."

She lets out a happy little sob, she falls against him. His arms wrap around her, the apple scent coming from her silky hair. He buries his nose against her neck, and breathes.

"I'm so sorry, I don't know why I ran," she whispers against his shoulder. He feels her tears soak into his shirt.

"Shh, I know. I understand," he turns his scar away from her.

Felicity leans back, turns his face towards her. Their eyes meet, it's still powerful, overwhelming, but no images, no empathetic link. Oliver sees a mixture of sadness and joy. But no pity, no disgust. Her finger traces the jagged scar.

"I was in the car with you, I felt your pain. I watched you fall down over and over but you kept getting back up. I know how you feel when you look at your scars. But that's not what I see when I look at you," she smiles. "I see survival, strength, and beauty."

Oliver scoffs, looking the true meaning of beauty in front of him.

"I could have lost you and I would have never known," she taps his cheek. "And this reminds me to hold on, to keep fighting. Because you never stopped. I'm still terrified but it's worth it having your arms around me. I didn't know it would be like this."

"I didn't either. It's so much more and so fast." Oliver takes a deep breath, "Can I kiss you?"

"Please?" she breathes.

They are sitting in the middle of an alley, Felicity sits across his lap, her hand still covers his scar, her thumb strokes the edge. Oliver brushes a stray tear from her cheek, her skin so soft and warm. He traces the curve of her cheek, her brow, down her nose and along her lower lip. He may have experienced parts of her past, the sound she makes when he's deep inside her, her laugh, her smell and the way she will love him so completely. But nothing will compare to their first kiss.

His eyes are open and drawn to hers, she parts her lips and inhales the same time he breaths out. Oliver's hand is at the back of her neck guiding her closer. A tentative brush of her lip against his, she presses forward sealing her lips and fate with his.


End file.
